A Warrior's Atonement
by Winddragon Eternal
Summary: My first Redwall one-shot. The Fur and Freedom Fighters celebrate the life of Felldoh as he died fighting for his cause. But can his spirit bring comfort to the ones who care for him. Or is it they who will comfort him? Based on the TV series.


_To those who know me, I'm terribly sorry for the LONG delay about the next chapter of Let There Be Light. It's just that I have a few setbacks I need to take care of. But I'm definitely not giving up on that story. I started it, and by all means, I am going to finish it. ;)_

_To my new readers, hello there and thank you for taking the time out to hear me. If you think this is my first fic, I've actually written a few stories, but not for Redwall. I wrote this just after I finished watching the series (which is probably surprising), but I felt bad for how Felldoh died. He was definitely my favourite character of the third season, and he reminded me in many ways of an OC I created for my other fics. __Anyway, enough of me yapping around. _

_This is dedicated to my two writing buddies, **Victory's Raconteur** and **Periosha**, who I am responsible for introducing the world of Redwall to them. And I hope you will enjoy reading this as much as they did. Eulalia!  
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><p><strong>A Warrior's Atonement<strong>

Tonight, they would storm into the eye of Marshank, breach its impenetrable walls and fight the evils that lurked inside it to gain what they longed for the most – liberty.

But for now, the Fur and Freedom Fighters had a duty to uphold, and a solemn one it was at that, especially for friends, and even family who had been reunited by fate only to have it take somebody dear away from them.

A melancholic silence befell the forest clearing as Martin the Warrior, Rose of Noonvale, her little brother Brome, Grumm, Pallum and all the other woodlanders gathered around Felldoh's body, which lay in the middle for all to pay their last respects. Were it not for the scars and bruises that adorned the fallen squirrel, he would have simply appeared to be sleeping the untroubled sleep of a babe, but the smile on Felldoh's face convinced the woodlanders otherwise. Nothing could ever touch or hurt him now, and he would forever have dreams of complete innocence and bliss.

Martin and Rose bowed their heads in silence as they remembered fondly the jolly, yet modest fellow who they only got to know in the briefest moments of their escape from Badrang's fortress. Brome cried openly like an infant and had to be rocked and comforted by his sister in her warm and soothing embrace. Sobs wracked Celandine's body as she thought of the love she had for her rescuer, and now it would never be returned. But none felt as much grief as Barkjon, whose tears of silence could not stop flowing as he gazed lovingly upon the body that was once his living son.

"He cared more for the freedom of us slaves. He even put the safety of the old and the weak before himself," said Barkjon as he wiped his eyes with his torn sleeve. "I only wish that he could've seen freedom from a younger age, instead of being locked up behind those walls only hoping that he'll be able to look out of them someday."

"Then that's where we'll bury him," Martin nodded. "Away from the tyranny of Marshank and overlooking his newfound freedom."

His words were sad but firm and everybody, even Barkjon, gave their silent approval.

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><p>The funeral was a simple, yet heartfelt affair. The woodlanders washed Felldoh's body by the shore before they carried him up to the top of a hill where the clear skies and calm seas were visible from all directions. They laid him in the earth and built a tomb of rocks at his grave, but not before Martin led the procession with a eulogy of his own.<p>

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of one whom we called friend. A dear friend, and a great warrior who fought for freedom." Martin's voice rang loud and clear like a sword in battle, hoping to rally courage in the hearts of the brave and strike fear in evil. "We will never forget what Felldoh had done for us, and he will remain forever in our hearts and our memories as we carry on his fight and rid the world of those creatures who took his life!"

Martin raised his sword into the air in a mark of respect, and the others followed in suit, lifting their spears, clubs, javelins, and arms for those who had no weapons as they held a moment of silence for their fallen friend and comrade.

Time may have robbed Felldoh of his life, but it would never take back all the fond memories the Fur and Freedom Fighters had of him.

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><p>"Brome, could I talk to you for a moment?"<p>

The young mouse caught sight of Martin walking towards him after the service. His shoulders felt heavy and so were his paws, but nevertheless he got up. "Of course. Is there something wrong?"

The warrior put an arm around Brome's shoulder as they both sat down.

"Rose is worried for you. And Keyla tells me you haven't been your cheerful self lately. If something is bothering you, you know you can tell me, right?"

Brome shook his head briskly, but even Martin knew better to recognize a lie as he patted Brome on the back.

"Look, I know how much Felldoh's death is bothering you, Brome, but we must learn to put the past behind us and look to the future to guide us. What's done is done."

"Quite right you are, wot wot?" said Ballaw the hare, whose sudden appearance led him to sit next to them. "The stage will always remember the greatest of players, even those who are long gone and reduced to dust. Jolly good fellow, Felldoh was. Always modest and valiant to the very end, if I may say so myself."

"I'm not upset about that," said Brome, shifting his gaze between Ballaw and Martin. "I know that Felldoh's in a better place right now. But I only wish he could've been there to listen to your speech, Martin."

"That's the spirit, young one," smiled Martin. "I'm sure he did, and now he's watching over all of us, especially over you – to keep the army safe and make sure that you're not unhappy."

"That's not what I meant at all," Brome's face fell, and he was met by silent and surprised looks from the others.

As quick as two shakes of a mouse's tail, Brome told the woodlanders everything: how he first saw the glee and insanity that sparked in Felldoh's eyes as he watched Badrang's horde drown a slow, excruciating death in that swamp. How he shifted the blame onto Badrang for turning him into the way he was. And most of all, how his words turned from calm and peace-loving into vengeance and hatred when he swore he would avenge Juniper at his funeral.

"I was there too, you know," said Ballam before Martin could cut in. "Heard the bloke loud and clear myself, that I did, eh wot? Never knew squirrels could hold a grudge that long!"

"You mustn't blame Felldoh for how he felt at the moment," advised Martin. "He's grown up his whole life knowing nothing else but slavery and being confined to orders. Perhaps he would have saw things differently if he let peace into his life."

"But you were a slave under Badrang's orders, just as I was, and Felldoh and Keyla and everyone else. What makes you think you know Felldoh better than yourself?" challenged Brome.

Martin opened his mouth to speak, in the hopes that his wisdom would have appease to the most troubled of souls, but no words came out. Instead, he sighed as he threw his back onto the ground with his paws supporting his head.

"Because I always remembered to live by my father's words," came the reply.

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><p>He wasn't quite sure whether he remained awake or asleep, but he seemed to remember having slipped under a cloak of shadows and rest, only to reveal a spectacle of fathomable sights which unfolded before his very eyes.<p>

Marshank was just in front of Martin's view, and the siege had already taken its course. He could see his friends from all directions as they fought tooth and claw against the vicious hordes of rats, stoats and weasels. For now, it seemed unclear as to which side held the upper hand. The chaos was everywhere; not just on the battlefield, but it rang in his head like a swarm of angry bees that clouded his thoughts and judgement which he could not shake away.

A shriek of malicious laughter snapped Martin back into reality, and the warrior gritted his teeth as he sized up his opponent who had suddenly appeared out of thin air to face him.

"Badrang! I am Martin the Warrior! And I've come to take back my father's sword, as I've said I would! Your reign of tyranny comes to an end now!"

The evil pirate stoat threw back his head in an amused howl as he unsheathed the very weapon he had stolen from a young slave many years ago.

"You fool! You think you can come here with an army of your own to fight for something you've already lost? Well, it doesn't change anything one bit, because you will never get your precious sword, and you have already lost this battle, slave!"

Not wanting to back down from a challenge, Martin narrowed his eyes. "We'll see about that!"

The two combatants screamed their battle cries as they lunged at each other, sword at the ready, where the sound of their blades clashed like the roaring thunder. But no matter how hard Martin parried, block and struck back, he was fully aware of how his agility and speed was bringing him closer to exhaustion, and that would be his undoing.

Badrang seized the opportunity to put his entire force into his next swing as it knocked Martin's sword clean out of his paws. He kicked out at Martin, who fell to the ground and now saw his father's sword merely an inch from his neck.

"Pathetic warrior, are you afraid of dying?" mocked the stoat.

"I shall never fear death, especially not by my father's sword!" yelled Martin, determined not to give Badrang the pleasure of watching his enemy fall.

The sword was raised once again. Martin knew how close he was to death, but he stared coldly into Badrang's eyes, never taking his gaze off until the final moment of his life.

He could hear the wind whistling against his ears, but it was not the sound of his father's sword – it was something else...

A javelin screamed past Martin's sight, and he watched with his mouth agape as it deflected the death blow that was meant for him. The only sounds audible were the curses flowing from Badrang as more javelins landed like rain, blocking his every movement.

"Who dares to interfere? Come out and show yourself, coward!" taunted Badrang.

From afar, another voice resounded, one that Martin was sure he hadn't heard for a long time.

"I am no coward! I am a free creature and proud to be one!"

Martin turned around; hoping to catch a glimpse of his soon-to-be rescuer, but his heart fell as he realized it was less than savouring. He blinked twice to ensure it wasn't a trick of the mist and light upon his eyes.

"Felldoh?"

The brown squirrel was charging towards Badrang, a clump of spears clutched in his left paw while he threw one after another with his right. But this was not the same Felldoh he once knew. Brome was right – there was insanity sparkling in the squirrel's eyes, and now they were a bloodshot red, a colour longing for the satisfaction of death.

"Felldoh! We thought you were dead! What are you doing here?"

"I'm going to finish what he started," growled Felldoh, not looking once at Martin. All rage and hatred were now channelled through the strength of his paws, and the look he had on Badrang's face. But for now, even the most tyrannical and feared of all pirates was as white as fear itself.

"No! This is impossible! I saw you die by my crew's hands! How is it that you lived?"

He lashed out with his sword, but Felldoh was quicker to deflect the oncoming attack as the blade embedded itself deep within solid wood.

The squirrel screamed in red fury as he picked up another spear and swung it with all his strength...

And plunged the weapon right through Badrang's throat.

Badrang's howls of agony soon dissolved into desperate sounds of gurgling. His whole body convulsed, trembling as he watched his life force seep through the cavity of his neck and soaked the ground. He broke off as he looked up at the sneering Felldoh, and gathering his remaining strength that seemed like a huge effort, spat in the squirrel's face.

Felldoh did not flinch, but merely wiped off the blood and brought a fist down on Badrang, smashing his lower jaw and knocking out a few teeth. Martin could only watch in horror as his former shade of a friend – no, a creature that had now possessed Felldoh's body, continue to lay fist after fist on his former tormentor.

"You beat me many times before. And you beat my father," he could hear Felldoh snarl. "I have never forgotten that."

Clenching his fist into a tight grip, Felldoh raised his elbow and brought it down on the javelin. It snapped in two, leaving Felldoh grasping the longer end while the tip remained lodged in Badrang's neck, now a deep and dark crimson.

Martin wanted to turn away from what he knew would happen next, but his eyes remained rooted in fear to the spot. Felldoh looked on in cynical glee, before he jammed the pointed end into Badrang's chest.

"And now, I will watch you fall, tyrant."

Badrang fell to his knees, grasping both ends of the spear in a futile attempt to pull them out, but the fight for his life was already lost. The stoat cast one final look of hatred upon his killer before he crumpled to the ground and lay horribly, but finally still.

Thus ended the years of tyranny and slavery of Badrang the Tyrant.

Frozen with disbelief, Martin could only stare at the fallen body that lay between him and Felldoh. As much as a peace-seeking warrior such as him desired an end to Badrang's life, this was a death he could not think of wishing upon any living creature, woodlander or vermin. Nobody deserved an end as cruel as this, and even a former slave like Felldoh should have known better.

"Great flying fur, Felldoh! What have you done?" yelled Martin.

But the brown squirrel paid no attention to his friend's cries as he walked over to Badrang and yanked both ends of the javelin as simply as he would have pulled out a root. With the scent of iron and blood that now tarnished the sea air, Felldoh thrust his paws into the sky, holding both ends aloft like a bloodied trophy.

"To me! TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" screeched Felldoh, all warmth and kindness now vanished along with the life he once knew. There was only fire that burned, but now it was an inferno that consumed everything good and pure, leaving nothing but darkness and despair. The squirrel made a lunge for Martin as he stumbled back, looking around frantically for a weapon to protect himself.

"Felldoh, don't you remember me? It's Martin!"

"No. The real Martin wouldn't have hesitated to watch this piece of scum fall. You're nothing but an imposter. And now, you will die."

Martin couldn't believe his ears. What happened to the modest and gentle squirrel who fought for freedom? Trapped against a boulder, he tried one final attempt to reach out to his friend.

"You're not being yourself, Felldoh! Stop this at once!"

"TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

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><p>Martin awoke with a flash, his paws digging deep into the soft earth as a cold sweat trickled down his forehead. As he started to gather his bearings, Martin shuddered at the thought of Felldoh in his dreams, and the maniacal look in his eyes as he brutally slaughtered the enemy. Was it possible that the visions were a sign, an ominous premonition of the future that was nigh to come?<p>

_Am I dreaming? Or is this a dream within a dream?_

Perhaps his thoughts also applied to his newfound surroundings, for Martin realized that he was no longer back in camp like he last remembered, but now standing at the foot of Felldoh's grave. The sun was well up now and cast a faint orange hue across the horizon, tinged with shades of dusk-like purple. And with the sound of accompanying footsteps, he knew he wasn't alone.

"Rose? Brome? What are you doing here?"

The two mice stepped into the clearing, but even they had brought their own company as well. Brome was holding Celandine's paw, and Rose was guiding the elderly Barkjon with his cane every step of the way.

"Barkjon just had a dream," explained the pretty she-mouse. "He said he saw Felldoh, and that he needed to talk to him."

"Who, Felldoh?" Martin blinked. Suddenly, the dreams he had didn't seem to be a mere stroke of coincidence.

"That's funny; I dreamt of Felldoh too, and he wanted to see me here," Celandine's voice piped up, a tone lower than her usual cheerful self, and Brome nodded in agreement with her.

"What about you, Martin?" asked Brome. "Has Felldoh appeared in your dreams too?"

"Sort of..." Martin struggled to find the words. It was best not to tell them the entire truth.

A sudden rustling of movements came from a clump of bushes right next to the pile of rocks that marked Felldoh's grave. The woodlanders pricked their ears to full attention, each one looking more worried than the other.

Was there some unknown creature whose property they were trespassing on and had desecrated with the burial of the dead? Or worse, had Badrang and his horde finally found their secret camp and were now taking the final battle to them?

Martin stepped in front of his friends, ready to defend them to his final breath as he unsheathed his sword. He half-expected somebody to jump out of nowhere, but a voice that was all-too familiar broke the uncomfortable silence, and Martin wasn't the only one who gasped in surprise.

"Easy there Martin, it's me. You might want to put that sword away. We don't want to poke the young 'un's eyes out, do we?"

After a time that might have lasted for several seasons, Felldoh stepped out into the clearing, his brown fur shining radiantly as it caught the evening sunlight. There were no signs of any wounds which might have caused his death, in fact, it seemed as though time had re-wound itself to the moment before he laid his final siege. And right next to him, a young mouse was gripping onto Felldoh's paw tightly, his beady eyes as wide as pools as he looked around cautiously at the woodlanders who were just as equally bewildered as he was.

"It's alright, Juniper. These are my friends. And you know Brome, don't you?" Felldoh knelt down to meet Juniper at eye level, giving him a reassuring pat. "I just need to speak to them for a moment, and then we'll be on our way, alright?"

Juniper nodded, stepping back as Felldoh approached his still bemused allies.

"I know what you're thinking of me right now. But I want you all to know that I've learnt my lesson. I was wrong – freedom isn't always about getting revenge on the people you hate or getting even. And for that, I am terribly sorry for the hurt and pain I've caused you."

He first came up to Brome and rested a paw on the young mouse's shoulder. "Can you forgive a bally fool like me?"

Tears coursed silently down Brome's cheeks as he fought to release the frog stuck in his throat. "You've always been my hero, Felldoh. But the truth is you're much more than that. You've been like my big brother, watching over me ever since I got separated from Rose." He threw himself into Felldoh's hug, his tears already staining the squirrel's yellow tunic. "Of course I forgive you."

Felldoh gave a warm smile as he kissed Brome on the forehead.

"I'm counting on you to watch over all the young 'uns while I'm gone, okay? And look after Rose and my father for me. You're the man of the family now."

Brome nodded fiercely, unable to say any more as he watched Felldoh walk towards the next woodlander, the one whom he could not deny his secret feelings for her.

"Celandine, my love." Their bushy tails entwined as one while the two squirrels basked in the warmth of each other's touch. "I wish we could have all the time in the world together. I would've loved to be with you, to grow old with you and to watch our children grow up and fall in love too."

He pulled her closer to whisper in her ear. "But Celandine, I would rather spend one day being with you than a hundred years as a slave and not know you at all."

Celandine's paws worked their way up to Felldoh's face where she caressed his smooth whiskers. "I know, my darling. My life lies with the Rambling Roseship Players for now. But I'll always love you. I'll wait for you. I give my heart to no one else but you."

Their noses rubbed lovingly against each other, followed by their lips that brushed with all the passion and happiness they could find in this single snowflake of time before it melted away forever.

"Don't leave me..."

Felldoh could've sworn he heard Celandine's faint whispers carried away by the wind, but he had already moved on and now stood before Barkjon.

"Father?" This time, the tears came from the young squirrel as he broke down in his father's arms. "I thought I was doing the right thing by fighting for us... for Juniper. I thought that killing Badrang would put an end to all this. And now I've let you down... I've let everyone down!"

Like Brome, Felldoh's anguish cries were silenced by the scratchy, whiskery touch of Barkjon's kiss that brushed his son's forehead.

"I don't blame you at all, Felldoh. You were in control of your own destiny, and that was something I never got to do when I was a slave. All this time I was under Badrang, I could not afford to make any mistakes. You're young, and life is full of choices – whether they're right or wrong.

"Felldoh, I'm so proud of you. No father ever had a better son."

All traces of guilt or sorrow, if they were any remaining, had dissolved in the warmth of a simple hug between father and son.

When Felldoh came to Martin, it was the mouse who spoke up first. "I should've got here sooner, Felldoh. It was my duty to watch over all of you before we could reach Noonvale. I'm sorry I didn't keep my end of the bargain." He bowed his head slightly, as though in shame.

"No Martin, this isn't your fault. I'm the one who should be sorry. If there's anything you've taught me, it's that being a warrior isn't always about settling matters with violence, but a true warrior will never strike his enemy down in pure hatred. You're the most honourable warrior I've ever met, and it's been a pleasure fighting by your side, even for a moment's worth."

Instead of any signs of affection, Felldoh extended his paw, which Martin gripped in a firm handshake. But sworn brothers or not, they pulled each other into a brotherly embrace. The squirrel's jaw was set with resolute determination as Martin paid heed to his final advice.

"Give that bully the punishment he deserves. Give Badrang hell for me," said Felldoh, the old sparkle gleaming in his eyes once more.

They watched as Felldoh waved to them, but not before he took Juniper by his paw and headed straight back into the bushes.

"Thank you, one and all. Juniper and I must take our leave. But fear not, you'll have our eyes and hearts to protect you, and the Fur and Freedom Fighters."

The last thing Martin remembered of Felldoh was his genuine smile, and a voice that seemed to address only him and nobody else.

_And thank you, Martin._

Strangely enough, the voice he heard was no longer fading, but growing stronger with each passing second.

_Martin... Martin... Martin...  
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><p>"Martin?"<p>

Martin stretched his paws, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The cloud of shapes before him gradually focused into Rose, who sat watching over him as she gave him a gentle shake.

"Wake up, you sleepyhead," she smiled. "It's almost time."

He looked around him. The woodlanders were already making their last preparations, from sharpening their spears, practicing a few sword hits, and the cart that was meant to be the front line of their attack was now loaded with bunches of hay bales.

"Ballum!" Martin called out. "How's our battering ram coming along?"

The seasoned hare held a blazing torch. The moment it touched the soft hay, the flames leapt into plain sight, a roaring tangle of reds and yellow ribbons that flared with the spirit of war.

"All fired up and ready to go, sir!" cheered Ballum.

Thought after thought ran swiftly through Martin's mind. Am I ready to lead these woodlanders into battle? Can I guarantee the safety of each and every one of them? Or will they be willing to perish in the name of a greater good?

There was only one way to find out.

He shared a tender gaze with Rose for a moment. Yes, he saw the love she had for him, and deep in her heart, she seemed to have read his thoughts as she held his paw and smiled at him.

Now Martin cast his view throughout the entire campsite. How impossible it seemed that a mere group of escaped prisoners had now grown into this fighting force gathered in front of his eyes. Brome, Kayla, Barkjon, Ballum, Rowanoak, the Rambling Roseship Players, the woodlanders and most of all, the slaves – no, freedom fighters. They were counting on him, and he would see to it that he would not let them down.

With adrenaline coursing through his veins, Martin made his way to the centre of the group. There was no need to raise his voice to order silence, for every woodlander who saw Martin decided to hold his or her peace as the warrior began to address them.

"This is it, everyone. Tonight, no matter what happens, I want to say that it's been an honour fighting alongside you, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart. But know this! It does not matter if we lose or win, because you are all free creatures right now! We fight for freedom! And most of all, we fight for Felldoh!"

Fuelled by their leader's words, the woodlanders' cheers rose as one. "For Felldoh!"

As they began their march towards Marshank and the inevitable course of their destiny, Martin could see the looks on his friends' faces, so different from many weeks ago when they were tortured and locked in captivity. Now they were ready, and their determination surpassed all signs of shame and disappointment which had now been cast away alongside their bitter memories of the past.

Soon, they would taste the sweet fruits of freedom.

But for now, they had an enemy to confront, and a fallen comrade or two to be avenged.

And if the spirit of Felldoh was watching from afar, concealed by the trees that guarded the silent woods, he would have been beaming with pride for all of them...

**The End**

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><p><em>Right, now that's a wrap. :)<em>

_Don't expect me to come up with another Redwall story just yet - this is my first try. But to all my anticipating readers, me, Victory and Perry have our own battles to fight, so you'll have to wait quite a while before any of us can post a new chapter regarding any of our stories. Patience is a virtue highly admired by those who are worthy._

_Until then, you're always welcome to review and comment on this one. I'm not sure if I've done the animated series of Redwall enough justice! :P_

_~ Wind_


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